


A Matter of Minutes

by keenquing



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-06
Updated: 2011-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keenquing/pseuds/keenquing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A terrifying situation in a grocery store makes Mandy question how much she *really* hates her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Minutes

She hates going to the supermarket. In the early days, it was because every once in awhile there was someone who recognized her. Someone who couldn't hold back a snicker or a raised eyebrow when they saw the Divine Miss Mandy Slade digging through the half-priced meat.

These days she'd give anything for that. Now going to the grocery store unrecognised by anyone, save the rare ex-lover or two, reminds her of just how far she has fallen. She remembers the days when she had people to do this for her, people who never went to places with sticky floors, bad fluorescent lighting and milk that might have shared glory days with her.

She needs to eat, though. She wonders why, sometimes. Why she bothers when there's nothing to look forward to any more. Starving to death sounds like far more trouble than it's really worth, though, and it's far from pretty. She'd let the tabloids say what they would about how she kept a roof over her head, but they'd _never_ say that Mandy Slade had let herself go _that_ far.

So here she is, wondering if that browning lettuce is worth the risk. She's turning it back and forth, noticing as she does that the polish on her thumb is chipped, when she hears a scream. _Just some kids horsing around_ , she thinks; thankful again for the fact that's one thing Brian didn't burden her with. She turns to put the lettuce in her basket and sees the two masked men with guns.

Mandy's _strong_. She tells herself that every day; that she's lived through so much, she must be strong. Pulled herself up from nothing to become the wife of one of the most successful rock stars in the world, weathered the storm that was Maxwell Demon and Curt Wild, survived the divorce from Hell with little to show for it but the clothes on her back.

But if she's so strong, why are her legs shaking? Why does she drop her basket, not caring where her meagre footstuffs end up? Why does she fall to her knees just like everyone else? Why, after the men decide that what the cashier offers them is not enough and begin accosting the customers, does she fumble with her jewellery. None of it really worth anything—Brian had sold anything of value before she could get to it and promptly put the money up his nose—but maybe it will be enough to save her life.

A life she _wants_ , she realizes. Sure, she's been telling herself these past ten years that suicide is just too much trouble. But the truth is, despite how hard it's been, the life she has now is hers. Outside of the name she still wears simply because it makes it the slightest bit easier to keep herself fed, she isn't dependent on anyone. She's been making her own choices—-what to wear, what to eat, who to sleep with (or not)--without any concern for anyone else. Before it was always about Brian, or Jack, or whatever group she was running with at the time. Keeping them entranced, making them want her, love her. And now...she won't go so far as to say she loves _herself_ , not yet. But, damn it, she wants to.

She keeps her gaze down while she fumbles with the clasp at the back of her neck, so all she sees of the struggle is feet and legs, but she hears plenty. Hears one of the men grunting as someone tackles him. Hears feet sliding around on the floor and voices cursing. And then she hears the gun go off—purposely or accidentally, it doesn't matter—and of course she thinks of Brian. Someone's blood is on the floor and she sees red feathers. It'd be funny, if it weren't for the fact that it's _not_ , that she's coming so very close to death and she's still thinking about that one day when she thought Brian was dead. She wonders, now, if she would have gotten over that faster and easier than she's gotten over the truth.

The struggle stops. The police show up, and the most anyone needs a few stitches. Property secured, wrong-doer's apprehended, feel free to go back to what you were doing.

Except Mandy doesn't, not quite. She forgets about the groceries; she'll be good for the night. On the way home, she stops off at the temp agency, the one she's always turned her nose up to before. She calls the club when she gets in and tells them not to expect her any more. And, over a glass of cheap-but-still-not-bad wine, she writes her maiden name for the first time in over ten years.


End file.
